you & me, we've got our own sense of time
by eccacia
Summary: One lazy Sunday morning, Barry and Caitlin talk about the multiverse over coffee. One-shot.


**AN:** Inspired by "Hannah Hunt" by Vampire Weekend. I've read a bit on the multiverse (which I'm not sure I fully understand, tbh) and quite a bit on the various romantic permutations of it, so I wanted to do a Snowbarry take. Ronnie and Iris won't be mentioned, but it'll be understood that there's no romantic interest for them on Caitlin's and Barry's part. In celebration of the end of my summer semester here's Snowbarry fluff ~squee

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 **you & me, we've got our own sense of time**

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"You're wrong. It's not possible for the multiverse to exist." Caitlin crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back on the chair, challenging him to convince her otherwise. Even when her usually carefully curled hair was pulled into a hasty ponytail, even in her faded uni sweater and gray jogging pants, she spoke like she was defending her research before a panel of Dr. Wellsian figures.

Normally, when she spoke like this, Barry would warm himself up for a debate. Especially when she started their conversations by telling him he was wrong. Did she know how to set up a challenge. The only problem was that it was too early, and coffee no longer had an effect on him, and she really was irresistible in the soft light; she was almost luminescent, and with the sunlight ringing her brown irises, he felt like he was staring at gold.

"…you're operating on the assumption that space-time eventually repeats, and when it does, it'll produce exactly the same circumstances surrounding us now," she was saying. "If there are infinite copies of myself, in these exact circumstances, how would you explain infinite possibilities? Where does divergence begin? How would you explain human consciousness in each of those parallel universes?"

Barry gave himself a minute to understand her questions, but realized he couldn't remember any of them. He was too groggy to comprehend anything other than the first item on the menu. "Cait, it's 6 in the morning. Isn't it too early to pick a fight?"

"I stayed up all night mulling over this after you brought it up yesterday. This is your fault." A smirk flashed over the rim of the mug she was holding.

"Hey, I can time-travel. If that doesn't convince you, I don't know what will."

"But you time-travel within the rules of this universe," she insisted. "I don't think you can traverse to other universes, even if they do exist."

"Listen, I don't normally function before noon, and you know that. You're totally setting me up so you can win this round," Barry groused, in an attempt to throw her off. "Before anything, at least tell me you've considered the possibility."

She bit her lip. "The possibility of…?"

The word _us_ hovered between them.

He was suddenly aware that they were speaking in undertones. It was always like this with her — at one point in their conversation, the mood would shift, and he wasn't sure if they were bantering or flirting, or if their banter was poorly disguised flirting…

It really was too early.

"Uh," he fumbled. "Of, well, other realities. Like, at this moment in another universe, I could be still in bed, and you would be messing up another egg…"

She raised an eyebrow. "I cook mean omelettes."

"Well, in the other universe, you don't," he persisted. "Maybe in that universe the only thing you can cook is instant noodles."

"Maybe in that universe, you'd be up at five in the morning."

"Then I probably wouldn't have taken the job at CCPD," he laughed. "I'd work a 9-to-5 job, maybe. Dash around Central City in a fancy suit and leather briefcase."

"But then you might've never been the Flash."

"Yeah. And I wouldn't have met you. And, uh, you know, the team," he added quickly, before the silence he feared to followed became too thick to penetrate.

But it was too late. The weight of her silence this time was different, and she was regarding him with a look made even more piercing by the strange gold in her eyes. "This is going to be weird, but you know how everyone has been trying to set us up?"

It was out. They were acknowledging it. Alarms were ringing in Barry's mind, as if the force of her acknowledgement brought the entire world into sharp focus, but he tried not to show his… unease? Excitement? "You mean Cisco? Yeah," he gave a weak laugh. "Sure. What about it?"

"I don't know," she said, worrying her bottom lip. "I'm trying to see what they see in this friendship… This is awkward, isn't it?"

Barry felt the urge to flash around the city to release tension. "Nah. I mean, it kinda is, but you know, we would've had this conversation otherwise."

She laughed. "Yeah, I guess. Yeah. Well, I mean, we really get along. And it's not like there's an absence of physical attraction…"

"Did you just call me cute?"

Caitlin's responding blush was so immediate that there was no way for her to deny it. Barry grinned. "Yeah, I think I can acknowledge that there is no absence of physical attraction on my part, either, Dr. Snow."

"Anyway," she grabbed her mug again, no doubt to hide her face — the mug was already empty last he checked. "So why is this relationship platonic? We have all the basic elements of attraction — same interests, same social circles, same contexts, physical attraction…"

"Well, love doesn't just happen when you throw in all those elements together," he replied. "Scientists make love sound like a math equation, but people aren't fixed values you can manipulate like letters and numbers. Which, can I just say, is why I like the idea of the multiverse so much. Even variables we think we know like space and time aren't so quantifiable, after all." Something suddenly clicked in Barry's mind as he replayed her words. "Wait wait wait, are you… Are you asking me out in a weird roundabout way?"

"No! No, I really like our friendship as it is," Caitlin stammered, turning even redder. "Really."

"Really."

"Really."

"Really?"

"Dammit, Barry Allen."

"You're blushing, Dr. Snow."

"Shut up."

"It's really cute."

"Ugh. I'm leaving."

"You'll never outrun me."

"Can you please just let me do a dramatic walk-out. Please." Caitlin stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest and shrank into the couch, pouting. She did this whenever she was embarrassed, Barry faintly noted; she would try to make herself physically smaller. It was so adorable, and it felt strangely intimate to be able to see this side of her usually guarded personality.

"Seriously though, Cait." Barry reached out to unfold her crossed arms, and when she finally gave in, he lightly touched his hand over hers. With that gesture, time stilled: conversations, the clinking of mugs, the whir of the coffee machines, were all engulfed by the moment he created. "What do you think? Of… this?"

Her eyes never left his hand on hers, regarding it as if it were unfamiliar for what Barry felt like a long time. And then took a deep breath, and slowly laced her fingers through his.

"It's… within the realm of possibility."

Barry sighed in relief and grinned, clasping her hand tighter so she wouldn't have the chance to pull away. "You're talking about this universe, right?"

She gave him a wry smile. "Remember, this is the only one I believe in."

* * *

Elsewhere, at that very same moment, an infinite number of other moments recur in an endless loop. In one universe, Barry is rushing into an apartment on fire a few blocks away from Jitters, and Caitlin is on the way there in a cab, feeling strangely sick at the possibility that he might get hurt; in another, Caitlin is standing by the altar resplendent in her wedding dress, saying her vows to Ronnie, while Barry struggles to smile; in yet another, Caitlin is standing by a grave marked "Barry Allen", holding the hand of a child yet too young to understand the impermanence of life and the finality of death; in yet other universes, Caitlin and Barry meet only in passing: he hears mentions of her name when her articles are published, she sees him crossing the street one day while rushing to work and forgets his face, but she will see him once in her dream and feel him familiar, a love lost in pockets of infinity she doesn't inhabit; and there are universes where they will never meet at all, where they will never hear the other's name, or walk the same city, or exist at the same time in history.

And there are those universes that open to other modes of reality: there is a universe where there is only matter, and every person is all organ and instinct; Barry and Caitlin exist only as bodies, yearning for things they cannot name. In another, there is no matter, only spirit; and in this world his soul and her soul find each other and twine around each other, yearning for touch without knowing touch, and all around them the wind whispers, tells them stories from their other lives.

 **end**

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 **AN** : This didn't really turn out the kind of fluffy as I expected… Oh well. By now it must be obvious that what gets me most about Snowbarry (aside from how their characters are just so perfect for each other according to the elements of attraction that Cait enumerated mehe) is that their relationship is so ripe with romantic possibility, but also that all those romantic possibilities are denied absolute certainty. They're teetering on a precipice and it's maddening wondering if they're going to fall. But watching them stroll comfortably on that precipice, or teeter, or fall and land neatly on the ground, all just work for them. So this "multiverse" fic is also a tribute to the many possibilities of Snowbarry (~*u*)~


End file.
